"rodney" poems
In the cold grey light of the sixth of June, in the year of forty-four,
The Empire Larch sailed out from Poole to join with thousands more.
The largest fleet the world had seen, we sailed in close array,
And we set our course for Normandy at the dawning of the day.
There was not one man in all our crew but knew what lay in store,
For we had waited for that day through five long years of war.
We knew that many would not return, yet all our hearts were true,
For we were bound for Normandy, where we had a job to do.
Now the Empire Larch was a deep-sea tug with a crew of thirty-three,
And I was just the galley-boy on my first trip to sea.
I little thought when I left home of the dreadful sights I'd see,
But I came to manhood on the day that I first saw Normandy.
At the Beach of Gold off Arromanches, 'neath the rockets' deadly glare,
We towed our blockships into place and we built a harbour there.
'Mid shot and shell we built it well, as history does agree,
While brave men died in the swirling tide on the shores of Normandy.
Like the Rodney and the Nelson, there were ships of great renown,
But rescue tugs all did their share as many a ship went down.
We ran our pontoons to the shore within the Mulberry's lee,
And we made safe berth for the tanks and guns that would set all Europe free.
For every hero's name that's known, a thousand died as well.
On stakes and wire their bodies hung, rocked in the ocean swell;
And many a mother wept that day for the sons they loved so well,
Men who cracked a joke and cadged a smoke as they stormed the gates of hell.
As the years pass by, I can still recall the men I saw that day
Who died upon that blood-soaked sand where now sweet children play;
And those of you who were unborn, who've lived in liberty,
Remember those who made it so on the shores of Normandy.
________________________________________
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Verse 1 (Honey *******
***** I'm Honey ******* bout to bring em some pain.
All my haters like a choir, they all singin my name.
Ain't got a heart for a broad that's the rule of the game.
Now you a fool if you aim.
Ill put a tool to ya brain.
I'm bout to get it and spend it.
If I said it, I meant it.
#FuckYoFeelings. Taste my weapon.
Act like a ***** Ill raise your blessings YOW
You are not familiar with me.
If you come makin a move, ***** yo visitor me
Verse 2 (Tyga):
Its that drop top phenom chop.
All gold rolly top.
**** yo fans, **** a cop.
All my ******* Betty bop.
Betty boop, ******* out.
Gangsta **** punch you in yo mouth.
***** I don't know what you talkin bout.
Flossin now you need dentist now Augh AUGH
**** around and Rodney King the beat.
Bout that war like Vietnamese.
Feelin froggy ***** leap.
I'm that ***** you obsolete.
I'm in that game you know P-T
R-E-C My Swa A-G. Only way you copying me ***** Augh
Verse 3 (Honey *******
Asian ***** on another degree.
Give me some space, move out my place, ***** I'm just tryna breath.
Now if you, see me around your way don't holler at me.
I just can't waste all my time cuz I be eatin these beats.
Listen you rats here just a captain me.
You ain't me homie you just act like me.
Well you should watch yo actions please.
Cuz there might be some casualties Augh augh
They about to witness it. Last Kings but I'm still on my Queen **** SCHWAG
Verse 4 (Tyga):
Aim aim at yo membrane just for sayin
I'm insane and your girl give me neck, Hang man.
I ain't playin, I never did lie.
Lay around and open yo thighs
****** gon pop like fish gonna fry
Nggas talkin greasy like the sh*t got slide WOW
High 5. Clap yo face. Change yo disguise, I work hard for the money. Money don't ever come in yo life.
A ******* right. When you lie, everybody wanna be just like.
Middle finger to the middle of yo eyes.
Young young Ty T-Raw need a Heisman Aaaahh
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Many people get the wrong idea as to what certain abbreviations stand for, so I'll clear it up for you.
Nintendo DS: Nintendo Derek Sanderson
NES: Neely Esposito Sanderson
WC: Wayne Cashman
3D: 3 Docders
SOS: Help
PE: Phil Esposito
ER: Erwin Rommel
SD Card: Sanderson, Derek Card
RC Car: Rodney Crowell Car
GPS: Girls' Phrases ****
BRB: Bring Reagan Back
TTYL: Ta Ta You Loser
BC: Bourque Cashman
TYMDPMFGMTITMTP: Thank You MrDrProffessor Murly For Giving Me The Idea To Make This Poem
NSA: 'Nuff Said Already
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
For it is written to grant forgiveness
No matter difference or malfeasance
To never speak ill of one another
Or deny each other our subsistence
All men are created equal parchment
Holding these truths to be self-evident
The oppression of the Kings colony
Patriotic revolutionary
Migrating minds irrational to sane
Reserved safe harbor but to others pain
Land of self-righteousness and victory
Exceptionalism and destiny
Ships billowing with holds of chattel slaves
Fractional human beings ordained graves
Until brother killed brother for freedom
Assassination emancipation
Forty acres and a mule recompense
Jim Crow separate but equal pretense
Lynch mob street justice terrorism rope
Vietnam veteran unable to cope
James Earl Ray bullet Memphis balcony
Bull Connor another dead Kennedy
Black power fist raised Mexico City
Malcolm X panther Muhammed Ali
White supremacy freedom riders dead
Mississippi white cross on fire dread
Rodney King can’t we just get along plea
Is skin color all we will ever see?
Should they get over their Mockingbird past
Should they burn the city or should they fast?
Oh Lord should we turn a cheek in silence
Or fight with Kings dream of non-violence?
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
he was radicalized in
the marshes of Vietnam
when they told him to fire
his loaded gun at a
group of school children
a dissident who
marched on Washington
with a Reverend and a King
and read Žižek Zinn and
Chomsky's reflections on direct
action and anarchistic philosophy
a staunch opponent of
police brutality in his
fifties he protested the
****** of Rodney King
he did not go quietly
into the black abyss but
raged against a putrescent
apparatus obsessed with control
he died waiting for the Revolution
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
In January 2015, my country said Happy New Year in the form of an Oklahoma cop
that stopped my brother and I for driving while black
This is an open letter to him
I never thought I would say this to a real cop, but **** the police
**** what you say, you did not pull us over because we were following to close
You pulled over a family of black men that have proudly served this country founded on the belief that I can die because 1/3 of my life doesn’t matter
But I gave you the benefit of the doubt
and calmly placed my trembling hands on my thighs on the side of I-40
waiting for you to waste my time
You immediately asked my brother to step out of the car so you could explain why you stopped us
I immediately had flashbacks of hands up don’t shoot and i can’t breathe
I had open-eyed nightmares of skittles and black sweatshirts
I had an image in my mind of Emmitt Till’s open casket, and I saw my brother’s face
I saw my brothers blood caked under your fingernails as you walked away
Because you always seem to get away
When I think of Trayvon Martin, Micheal Brown, Rodney King, Emmitt Till, and all the fallen members of my race
They are each reminders that I am never too far away from being one of them too
I am never too far from being made an example
However, you couldn’t find a reason to justify putting us in jail cells that are marked for colored only
You seemed dissatisfied that you found two black males that oddly enough, didn’t fit the description
You so badly wanted to put us back in our place when we never fell out of line,
none of us has ever fallen out of line
You may one day get this message and think there goes another angry *****
But mr simpleton let me explain
Being angry and being hurt have the exact same feeling
Make the exact same sound
And cry the exact same tears
So it's easy to see how you could get confused
Somehow you see my race as a threat to this image of a life you already live
White privilege is the health insurance plan that gave you coverage specifically because you have a preexisting condition
My people will continue to make strides in this most free of nations
Yet to you we will always be inferior
And for that i pity you
You see I could go on about how you were wrong
About how you are just another terrorist wearing the uniform of someone who is supposed to protect Americans just like me
But you will never be worth my time
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Swarming: bees above a skylight.
Breath forming: a child asleep in fading light.
Innuendo: eyes when a kiss ends.
Before crescendo: the audience as the curtain descends.
Age: a handwritten journal from a wandering liar.
Exhausted rage: Slauson Avenue after the Rodney King fire.
Utility: a brown wooden desk with empty drawers.
Apostrophe: an oration delivered near crashing shores.
A life destroyed: an Olympia typewriter covered since 1975.
The void: a poem read aloud, addressee not alive.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
The bass hits hard in the back seat of a car
Passing zoots back & forth, here we are
Hoods up, the man dem looking for war
Pistol gripped, left hand, and we're sure
Trying to **** a man tonight for the cause
Man got the cash, that's right, that's ours
Trying to get that food for the fight, for the boys
Animals in black masks holding their toys
Orders from above as we arrive at the spot
To the place where the man-a get popped
Shifty looking bloke in a hood, we've been clocked
Every man rush from the car on the block
Running with the crew with my hand on my... glock
Round the corner, right towards the shops
At that point the man we pursue just stops
At that point all we hear is gun shots
Rodney got shot, Malcolm got shot
Barry got shot, Marvin got shot
Mans on the roof picking us off like dogs
I let the banger blare, but I know I lost the plot
Took a hasty retreat on my lonesome in the dark
Made a left by the pub and ended up at the park
Man still chasing me, I know they're not far
I need to get back to my crew and the car
I'll probably be dead before I get past the bar
I kept on towards my estate, just to be sure
No long ting, I don't want a grand tour
Shook the man off when I got to my door
But when I got inside, the only thing that I saw
The faces of my dead friends and a land of no law
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got 1 too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gun not, Colt 45 is not malt
Nor a horse, hand grenades, canons w/big ***** Doc Holiday had TB
Rock Hudson *** James Dean crash his car,Hank Williams in his bar
Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed brother, Juliette poison her lover,
Whitey Bulger, he killed and got paid, deadman walking gets to eat
Rodney King he got beat, got beat Mama Cass Elliott choked on ham
58,000 gone in Nam, 4 dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again 2001
Iraqi leader w/ a rope, John Belushi too much dope, C. Manson is alive
Michael Jackson isn’t, Saturday night special is very ordinary
Fast and furious is the crime, **** Clark just his time
Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling up in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
***** Harry had the biggest
The Derringer is small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many +’s or -’s
Is electrical surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Walking dead
Are zombies
Fat man and
Little Boy
Are atom
Bombies
as for me
in a blaze
of glory
BOOM
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
(Song title from Michael Jacksons’ catalogue, by Michael Jackson, Rodney Jenkins, Fred Jerkins III and LaShawn Daniels)
I’m feeling threatened,
By my actions and my mind,
It’s a scary thought,
Not knowing what you’ll find.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
OK! OK! I'm awake
You come in here and put your fingers all over me
Some of you go rattling off like a machine gun
Some of you hit me so hard, I feel like I'm going to break
Then, there are those who two finger me to death
I feel like Rodney Dangerfield; how about some respect
Sincerely, your keyboard : )
PS. Thanks for the food crumbs but please keep your fingernails to yourself
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
This lyric is for no one
No one who stood courageous
Upon the inferno of our world
For no one who laughed when they beat Rodney King
No one stood silent and said 'well that's just a shame'
For no one who watched the boy become a man
No one who didn't doubt him when he said 'I think I can'
No one to give him bliss blanket of advice
Who wasn't there to tell him how to not waste his life
And for no one who suffered in the alleyways of Skid Row
No one weeps for the ****** face down in the snow
No one who says 'I don't want to know, I didn't know'
This lyric is for no one in particular
No one who sobs to herself in the night
No one who cuts her wrists after mom and dad fight
No one gives her a hug saying 'it's okay, it's alright'
This is for no one who sees outside their world
For no one cares about whats inside the girl
This is for no one who cares for the disturbed boy
Dreaming,
Screaming his angry young years away
No one to tell in memory of my love
Who conquered my Earth and sky above
Instead this is for no one who stood by
Watching the happy and the sad float by
For no one wants to lie and stare at the ceiling and cry
Or die
This is in memory of no one in particular
For no one who did nothing doesn't deserve anything.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
THE BIG CRASH AT PARK VILLE
BETWEEN A BEER TRUCK AND A TRAM YEAH AND
SLIM DUSTY’S GHOST CALLS OUT
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH KEVIN
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH PATRICK
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH TONY
NO THE TRUCK IS IN A CRASH
THE BEER KEGS ALL FELL OVER EVERYWHERE
LEAVES US WAITING TO HAVE BEER WITH OUR MATES
HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION
THE BEER KEGS ARE SCATTERED ALL OVER THE GROUND
WE CAN’T HAVE BERR WITH OUR MATES
CAUSE THE TRUCK HASN’T COME UP YET
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH RODNEY
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DAN
CAUSE I MIGHT HAVE MENTIONED THE PARKVILLE CRASH
OH MY GOD, IT SPOILS THE PLAN FOR THE TOWNSMEN
YOU SEE HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION
WHERE THE BEER IS LOW, OH YEAH
IU CAN’T HAVE A BEER IN PARKSVILLE
CAUSE WE CRASHED INTO A TRAM
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH WILLIAM
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH BILL
WE DRINK IT UNDER THE TABLE
BUT THIS CRASH BRINGS A SHORTAGE YEAH
COME ON RESCUERS, PLEASE, SAVE OUR ****** BEER
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN
CAUSE, HE DESERVES IT, OH YEAH
THEN SLIM DUSTY FLIES AWAY, DON’T FORGET ME PARKSVILLE
I MET YOU AT THE STATION
WITH ALL THE BEER HERE RATHER THAN THE PUB MY KIND SIR
WE CAN’T HAVE OUR CELEBRATION
WE DRINK THE BEER ANYWAY, IT’S HOT BUT WHO CARES, IT’S BREW
YEAH LET’S GET ****** OLD KODGERS, AND YOUND DUDES
YEAH, GET BLIND OH YEAH
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
For Rodney, whose light never seizes to shine.
middle fingers up, middle fingers up - put your fists up!
The Black Blazers;
they march and trot over,
the heart of the city.
Like seasoned veterans of war.
Unknowingly striking,
as they would on a gruesome battle field.
Buttoning their starch-pressed white shirts,
at the break of dawn,
like soldiers with bullet proof vests.
With the hope of becoming the hero at work,
even if its just for the day.
Elaborately folding their carvats,
some wonder,
'Do we really need to leave?'
Looking at their love,
in deep slumber with a hint of a smile on their face.
They take one glance at the mirror,
never looking back,
they go off to protect,
they go off to war.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
Sorry sir, there's a 15 minute wait for a table. "I'm Willoughby **** it, I wait for no one"!
Sorry mister ,we're all out of that item. " I'm Willoughby, I write poetry on All Poetry".
Sorry, we're closed. " I'm Willoughby, I'm insulted. I've killed for less".
That numbers been disconnected. " Don't you know who I am? I'm Willoughby. Willoughby!! Do I have to spell it out to you? I have a pet rat, collect garbage and live in the basement of a luxury high-rise building. Doesn't that account for anything"?
We're the I.R.S. You haven't paid taxes in five years. "Who in the hell do you think your talking to? Well I'm Willoughby. That trumps everything and all. Away with you"!
Your sentenced to five years in prison for not paying your taxes. Court adjourned. " How dare you judge me judge me judge me... judge. After all, I'm Willoughby".
...and you'll stay in solitary confinement till you behave.
Sob, cry... but I'm Willoughby.. moan...Willoughby...cry...Willoughby...
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
When I was a child,
I never fully committed
to a cartwheel.
My feet being so far off
the ground unnerved
me.
Supporting myself
on my own scrawny arms
did not appeal to
me.
Instead, I rolled.
I should really learn to do a cartwheel.
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
Still chasing broken ropes tryna elope to somethin' I can't cope
Dope pushed in the streets for high heat
Of police beats us til we loose teeth Rodney Kings
Trayvons to Martin who many start in?
Wars scared of an uprise ain't no saprise
The way they see my eyes rise realize baptized
By the sunrise then again once the sun sets in
My minds circling can't out run em the guns stay
Attached to me and my enemies see the wind breeze
We move like coke Columbian ki's from birds to bees
I gotta keep a low steez watch out for the monster aid disease
Increasing all over many folks dying no many realizing
The game that's being played by the invisibles marinets
They poisoning us from food to drugs we just a silhouette
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
He was just fourteen
When he ran away
He couldn’t take it
For even one more day.
His mom just ignored him
Dad watched football games.
They talked behind his back
About who they should blame.
You gotta be the way
We think you should be.
Never be like you
Always be like me.
Butch it up in public
Change the way you walk.
If you can’t do that
Just shut up, don’t talk.
He was teased about his name
And teased about his size.
He had a kind of stutter.
They didn’t think him wise.
He was kind and polite and
Had a soft pleasant voice
So, the jerks in the crowd said
He was one of the gay boys.
The problem was he wasn’t
What any of them thought.
He was straight and he was shy
But what his manner brought
Was constant stereotyping
Based on bad parenting
Both at home and at school
Never quite relenting.
You gotta be the way
We think you should be.
Never be like you
Always be like me.
Butch it up in public
Change the way you walk.
If you can’t do that
Just shut up, don’t talk.
So Rodney ran away
And lived out on the street
Taking charity from those
Runaways always meet.
Now Rodney’s in jail
In the hospital ward.
His leap for freedom
Had some bad rewards.
You gotta be the way
We think you should be.
Never be like you
Always be like me.
Butch it up in public
Change the way you walk.
If you can’t do that
Just shut up, don’t talk.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
there's **** Jagger and i have a lobster - ooh
hey yeah fan mail - i'll die tonight listening to
alpha bravo... charlie out;
summertime Kabul Tupac Shake Jovi - Bon Bon
Mangetout Rodney, the flyer across the street
of Peckham East on a tricycle -
any other onomatopoeia too -
or a knock knock joke?
how many times will the joke last
before the joke ends and i
send you two to the scaffold
with Antoinette's head rolling,
down down south?
what? you the only billionaire
with a puppet instrument gagging
teen girls worth a colliding shout?!
i too sold out,
i signed a **** you and then thank fucky fucky
bowed out on holiday in Thailand.
oh here comes Layla with Clapton,
genie and the Harrison and wasted Beatlemania -
tomorrow sounds just fine
and welcome to repeat with high tea at 5 take or hoot bonkers
clarification a repeat; or thus said vogue:
it was necessary to keep the garden primed,
even if it was Liverpool F.C. -
and everyone said that Michael Owen was an estate agent.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
It's ok, I've never heard of me either
I'm what's called 'back-up' in case a famous one loses its tether
You think the big man relies wholly on the ones that you've heard
They're just for the kiddies tales baby, don't be so absurd
There's Splodger, Spliffer, Ransack and me,
To name but a few with names that don't agree
There's Woody and Wobbler with Randy and Tiddler
You'll get the jist with the names that have been called here
All stood out the back after the main ones have been chosen and cleared
Kids don't want to hear of the ones who break all the rules
Sitting around all day stinking of their own stools
For this isn't the way of a tale to be told
If written in books then none would be sold
As I am the just the Reindeer waiting in the wings
Credit to Rudolph and the other ones who's names the children sing,
As I am happy to be just waiting here, stuck between the shadows
As time will tell if Rodney fits a story, that all will someday follow
JJB
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
This that "cause you said that , now I'm not speaking to you",
This that "you took too long to reply so I'm done with you".
This that "you ain't **** getting her pregnant rodney",
This that "oh now you don't remember me? Then **** you!",
Where did we go so wrong with communicating?
These apps are not stimulating no more,
Its just irritating,
I get like 2 matches a day and still nobody said ****
Waste of time isn't it?
Time to set boundaries and benefits,
At this rate , I just want friends,
Why can't loneliness end?
at least don't pretend saying what was really meant,
Its not rocket science looking within someone's soul,
But if their heart is blacker than black and milds , then I'm gone,
If I call you a ***** on this phone , then I would be wrong,
Right?
Don't call me when you and ya' hubby get into a , fight,
We all got problems that need to be solved increasing the rates of cheating and brawls,
You wanna be him, she wanna be her,
Y'all know y'all both can't have it all,
On the internet looking like fine ****
But Whats fine **** to the spiritual,
Iykyk we ain't liberals,
Time to build our people up in general.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 2:30 AM UTC
I can see you tired and trapped,
Once wide eyed now layered with degradation,
Regret is found deep in a stream of lies,
A lord amongst insects must only survive.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
It's been getting worse.
6am was open for sinners but 10 was closed for repairs. Imagine the disappointed frowns drinking coffee reading regretful emails.
The afternoon sun hurt my head, I miss your cave.
In my bed, pillows over your ears and eyes.
12 pm was better but 2 was embarrassing.
I hate to leave like that. I never want us to be mad at each other.
Crying at the kitchen table, no it's not you.
Calling myself an idiot in the car for routinely missing turns.
The mall wasn't crowded but it felt like it was. No dresses fit for the wedding tomorrow. Staring at a red scarf listening to Burning Down the House over the loudspeaker at Dillards and feeling my eyes in my head and wondering if David Byrne ever dreamed he would have songs playing over the loudspeaker at Dillards.
You shouldn't have done that to yourself. I'm sorry I suggested it.
It's ok, it's not you.
It must have been 50 or more dresses. Four hours.
This has been the worst day.
We've been talking about this for a long time. Sitting at the kitchen table, ugh, boys.
Smoking through the window.
My great grandmother made my *** my pants when I was eleven because she was cursing the door she couldn't unlock.
I once saw someone lose a prosthetic leg while riding a roller coaster.
TJ had a cat named Rodney.
We found burn holes in her mattress when we moved in. All her stuff was still there.
Reconfirming value, standing in front of the mirror in wedding clothes. Red heels. A white scarf to a wedding that doesn't belong to me.
It's ok, it's not you.
Nick started talking about what he's going to say for our wedding.
I told him not to worry about it, I don't have any idea what I'm going to say at his.
Cigarettes in the cold. Adderall and ZzzQuil and Dr. Who prints on Etsy printed on old dictionary pages. The world is falling away.
Write a poem.
3:17am is open for sinners.
It's been getting worse.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC